


Seven Little Moments

by laveIIans



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Break Up, F/M, Falling In Love, Ficlets, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, minifics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-01-05 08:12:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12186252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laveIIans/pseuds/laveIIans
Summary: 6 times she came to visit him, eager and carefree. For the 7th time, he came to her instead...A collection of 7 moments of Lavellan and Solas together. These chapters can be read either as standalone fics or as one long, cohesive story.





	1. Contents

Seven is both a lucky and magical number, fitting for a mage Lavellan, so here is a collection of 7 Lavellan/Solas fics that span their whole relationship! Lavellan's first name is never mentioned (I tend to either just say 'she' or her surname) and her physical description is kept vague, so you can imagine your own Lavellan while reading. The fic titles came from an idea I had to use obscure or unusual words as a starting point and base the idea of the story around its definition.

**All Elvhen used comes from the ever wonderful FenxShiral's[Project Elvhen series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/229061)**. I hope you enjoy!

CHAPTER ONE ‖ [_Allicient_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12186252/chapters/27669912) ‖

CHAPTER TWO ‖ [_Baisemain_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12186252/chapters/27673533) ‖

CHAPTER THREE ‖ [_Calodemon_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12186252/chapters/27863451) ‖

CHAPTER FOUR ‖ [_Daedal_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12186252/chapters/27863559) ‖

CHAPTER FIVE ‖ _Effulgence_ ‖ (NSFW)

CHAPTER SIX ‖ _Fabulism_ ‖

CHAPTER SEVEN ‖ _Gallionic_ ‖

 


	2. Allicient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Allicient_ \- attracting something. Solas and Lavellan's romance has a budding, if awkward, beginning...

It wasn’t an immediate feeling. She wasn’t quite sure when it had happened, or when she had started feeling that way about him, but it was there.

She had felt curious about him from the moment they met, and how could she not? He was one of the few older men she had seen outside of her clan, and an elf at that. To top it all, he was a mage just like her, although considerably more experienced with spirits and the Fade in general.

He was utterly fascinating, and she felt drawn to him. He always had a polite greeting for her, and they could talk quite happily about magical matters together. It became obvious to them both very quickly that her magical knowledge was lacking in comparison to his, so he had quite charitably offered to teach her what he knew in their spare time.

It was a kind offer, but it posed its own problems. Newly hailed as the Herald of Andraste, a figure she did not worship and knew little about, she was constantly needed for something: she had to be present for diplomatic situations; she had to gather supplies for the people of Haven; she had to do this, then that, then that… Someone always needed something from her, it seemed, and she was often so drained afterwards that she could barely stand, let alone be tutored rigorously.

Still, they had spent more than a few weeks together by the time she noticed. It didn’t announce itself loudly to her; instead, it was a quiet yet sudden realisation that made her catch her breath. She shuddered in surprise.

He looked at her with concern, and she couldn’t meet his eyes. She felt completely embarrassed and entirely too aware of how much she lacked in comparison. She must seem like an ignorant child to him, stumbling through spells and situations with all the grace of a drunkard falling to the floor; she couldn’t possibly think of him like that, knowing how ill-fitting a match she would be. He would never _dream_ of thinking of her in that way, as if they –

“Are you alright?” His voice snapped her out of her panicking, and it slowly subsided. Anxiety gnawed away quietly at her gut, an ever present reminder that was only just bearable, but she was able to look at him, at least. _Creators, if only his eyes weren’t so beautiful._

“Yes, Solas,” she whispered, surprised at how shy and nervous she had suddenly become. He would be worried about her now, and what explanation could she give him? That she loved him? No, it was too early to say that. That her every thought aside from her work eventually wandered to him? How he was, where he was, what he was doing and what he was thinking? How she had started to dream of little moments with him that would never come to fruition, where they would wander quietly together, hand in hand? In some of those dreams, he had lent over and kissed her, sometimes on the cheek but often on the mouth. How could she explain the way that imagined moment made her feel so giddy and yet so afraid?

“You seem… distracted, right now.” He walked closer to her and she felt her heartbeat quicken, cursing her nerves. “Are you sure you’re not feeling ill? If you would like, I can walk you to the healer –”

“Oh no, no, I’m perfectly fine!” she cried out in a shrill voice, then clapped her hand over her mouth. She could feel her face reddening with shame. _What a strange sight I must look right now_ , she thought bitterly. “I’m just…. ah…” She turned away from him, afraid that another glance might make her dissolve into tears. She couldn’t bear looking so muddled and confused to him right now. Her thoughts scattered as she tried to find an appropriate excuse to retire to her quarters and hide.

He looked at the floor for a moment, and she chanced a look out of the corner of her eye. He did look worried, but also confused. He would be too distracted to notice if she ran now, surely? After a second’s hesitation, she bolted. She didn’t turn back once, afraid of what she might see in those eyes that followed her. She was too ashamed to be near him for another second.

She didn’t notice, of course, that her staff had dropped neatly to the ground as she ran. Solas walked over to where it had fallen, bending to pick it up, and looked to where she had ran. A thousand possibilities surfaced in his mind, each new one more unlikely than the last, as he thought about her actions that day. He remembered the way she had blushed to see him, smiling shyly when she thought he hadn’t been looking; the way her palms rubbed nervously together as she took up her staff and pointed it as he talked; the way he had had to keep reminding her to focus her energies, because she had been so overwhelmingly _distracted_.

There was only one reason that explained it, and it was one that pained him. If this was true, he would end up breaking her heart. He had no wish to cause her any pain, and if he had to admit it to himself, he _had_ grown to enjoy her company and the moments they spent together, both tutoring her and generally talking. She had a sharp mind, eager and curious to learn and discover, and he could watch approvingly as her eyes sparkled in wonder while she listened to him conjure truths from beyond her wildest dreams.

It was just the truth that worried him. It was something he feared she would never understand, as hard as she might try to puzzle it out, and learning it would devastate her. She would never be able to think of him the same way if she heard him tell her who he was, and how could he blame her? It was one thing to have feelings for someone who he hoped he could think of as a friend by now, and quite another to learn that that friend was someone else entirely. There had never _been_ a Solas, he would have to explain; that was a mask created from necessity to hide his shame while he waited and planned.

They both had a lot of thinking to do, he realised. He would have to consider whether it was wise in the long run to continue this friendship with her, and whether it would, no, _should_ ever blossom into more; she would have to consider bravely telling him that was exactly what she wanted.

He glanced wistfully at the building she had made her own before walking in the opposite direction.

 

* * *

 

 _This was a mistake._ Her mind was clouded with fear and she found she was too weak to face him yet. By this point, he could only think of her as a stupid child. A stupid child who would rather run from her troubles than face them head on.

It was seeing him that caused her the most pain. When they came across each other by chance, walking the same way, she would duck her head and avoid eye contact. She could sense his confusion and concern for her the way she sensed her heart skip a beat when she realised he was standing in front of her, and she was wracked by guilt at how pained his expression had become.

This was a situation she had never been trained to confront. As a First, she had generally been busy training under Keeper Deshanna, absorbing her knowledge and following her guidance to the very letter until her head was soaked with memories of centuries long past. Such a rigorous education had left very little time for relationships, and though she had been close to many in her clan both younger and older than she was, they had been strictly platonic. She had simply not had the time to even _consider_ anybody romantically, let alone actually _feel_ it.

Of course, she had seen relationships blossom around her; the first fumbling towards love that those of her age had made, expressing their feelings as earnestly as an elder in a desperate attempt to be reciprocated. Naturally, some had come to nothing more significant than experimenting, and they had dwindled to a respectful friendship that had been perhaps strengthened by experiencing a brief union.

She had even seen some of these relationships come to full fruition, with the happy couple asking for Sylaise’s blessings on their wedding day. Sometimes a crop of babies had followed, and sometimes not; it was of little matter to her, as in her eyes their shared joy was blessing enough, although the Keeper had privately expressed her fears that without a certain number of young ones born each year, the clan would eventually wither away until all who were left were those too old to try.

That was the curse of her Dalish people – with such a small population, both in their own clan and among the others at each _Arlathvhen_ , it was of utmost importance to carry on their lineage and educate the young of their heritage. With each passing year, more memories were lost in the haze of time; Solas himself had said that they were simply imitating what was lost, and although his words had stung her (as they often did when he spoke about her people), she had to admit there was a ring of brutal truth to them: what would happen when there was nothing left to imitate? The glory of ‘the last Elvhen’ would be no more, and her people would be left broken, their proud spirit in defiance of a harsh world reduced to ash and futility.

It was these thoughts that eventually led her to Solas once more. She reminded herself of the bloody struggles of the Dales, and the heroism of her ancestors. Would they have stood shaking at the thought of possible heartbreak? It would only be a temporary pain, if it happened at all, she assured herself; if he said no, which was very likely, then at least she could distract herself with work and tavern visits with the rest of her companions until it no longer hurt. Hopefully by that point they could at least be friends.

Steeling herself, she walked over to where he often stood, taking a minute to wait to catch his eye. _I can do this._

This time she didn’t look away. She held his gaze and smiled at his brief look of surprise.

“Hello Solas,” she said, trying to make her voice sound less shaky and praying to the Creators she would have the courage to succeed.

“I see you have returned at last, _da’len._ ” Was that a touch of amusement she heard in his voice? She could have _sworn_ he had smirked for a second. “Were my lessons so dull for you?”

“Oh, no, no,” she waved her hands reassuringly, “they were wonderful. I loved every minute of them.” A huge grin lit up his face, and it took a minute for her to realise she had fallen into his trap.

“Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow at her, chuckling as she squirmed. “Then tell me, Lavellan, what was the reason for you fleeing so spectacularly while I was about to teach you how to form a stronger barrier?”

She gulped. “I… ah… I needed to think about… something.”

“It must have been _quite something_ to get you so distracted. Normally you are an ideal student.”

“You are –” She paused, scrambling her brain to try and find a coherent sentence. “You have an interesting way of looking at the world, Solas.” _Hopefully that works._

“I try,” he said, giving her a level look. _Those eyes will be the death of me._ “And that isn’t quite an answer.” Seeing her pale slightly, he smiled. “You train your will to control magic and withstand possession. Your indomitable focus is an enjoyable side benefit. You have chosen a path whose steps you do not dislike because it leads to a destination you enjoy…. As have I,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

“Indomitable focus?” She was confused once more. She had come here feeling so certain, sure that if she got the awkward confession out of the way then things could progress smoothly. Was he _toying_ with her?

“Presumably,” he admitted. “I have yet to see it dominated. I presume the sight would be…. _fascinating._ ” The way he lingered on that last word practically made her blush all over, even though she was nearly certain by now that he held no interest in her.

“Dominated by who, Solas? A demon? I thought that was why you were training me.”

 _There. That was_ definitely _a smirk._ There was no doubt about it now – he _was_ teasing her, but for what purpose? Cruelty? She didn’t see that as a quality in him, but maybe –

“That was what I thought, too. Unless perhaps you came for another purpose.”

It took a second to hit her while he stood there, almost smug in her eyes. _This is not going at all how I planned._ Well, two could play at that game. “I enjoy your company, and I look forward to getting to know you.” She paused. “Nothing more.”

She flashed him a cheeky grin as he stood there momentarily stunned. “I assume the lessons will continue as usual then, Solas?”

“I – yes, of course, Lavellan.” He was trying to recover himself now, but she wasn’t going to leave the opportunity without fully seizing it.

“Then I will certainly _look forward to it._ ” She felt more confident than she had done in days of worrying, and seeing him start to blush was a very strong boost. “ _Sule tael tasalal, hahren._ ” She shot him a wink before walking away.

It wasn’t exactly a confession, but it was certainly an open invitation. A toe dipped into the waters, sending a wave of ripples across the surface. It was up to him how he would respond.

 

* * *

 

The lessons were certainly much more enjoyable and far less formal. They were able to exchange banter freely, to the point where she could call him _lethal’lin_ and he called her _lethal’lan_ , although his occasional use of _da’len_ remained unchanged. Previously it had been more formal, a way of addressing her that acknowledged their age gap. Now it took on a more jovial and intimate tone, one that was slightly mocking when the conversations edged into something a little more flirtatious.

Even Sera noticed. “You’re in it deep, aren’t you?” she asked Lavellan one night over drinks at The Herald’s Rest, noticing the way her eyes had been slowly drifting over to where Solas sat for quite a while now.

She was too happy to deny it. “It’s true,” she admitted shyly, blushing when Sera hooted with laughter and slapped the table excitedly. The noise was enough to make Solas look up from where he had been sitting, nursing a cup of ale while reading something. He narrowed his eyes at Sera’s raucous behaviour until his gaze met Lavellan’s. The two of them smiled at one another, and it was easy to pick up on the warmness and growing affection between them.

Sera mimed vomiting. “Ugh, I’m going to be sick if you keep making moon eyes at Droopy over there. Go and talk to him, for Andraste’s sake! I’ll be fine over here with Varric, right?”

“Sure thing, Buttercup.” Varric nodded, giving Lavellan a grin. “I’ll buy her a drink while you get cosy with Chuckles there.”

The pair laughed as Lavellan made her slightly embarrassed way over to where Solas sat, raising an eyebrow at her. The corner of his mouth twitched as she sipped her ale slowly, looking out of the corner of her eye at him.

“I assume this is Sera’s doing,” he muttered.

“Well, she kind of prodded me along. Literally. With an elbow.” She rubbed her back for emphasis.

He snickered. “Does this mean you’d rather be with your previous company?”

“Oh no,” she smirked. “I think I’ll do just fine with you.” They shared a grin and inched closer together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Elvhen translations:** (all comes from [FenxShiral](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FenxShiral/pseuds/FenxShiral) at [Project Elvhen](https://archiveofourown.org/series/229061)!)  
>  _Sule tael tasalal_ \- Until we meet again  
>  _Hahren_ \- Elder; a title of respect for someone older  
>  _Da'len_ \- little one  
>  _Lethal'lan/lethal'lin_ \- casual reference for someone the speaker is familiar with; _lethal'lan_ is female, _lethal'lin_ is male ( _lethal'len_ is neutral)


	3. Baisemain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Baisemain_ \- a kiss on the hand. Shortly after the move to Skyhold, Solas and Lavellan share a quiet, intimate moment. Contains references to Trespasser and Fen'harel, and inspired by [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3303242).

They had been a fairly open secret now for a long while. While neither the Inquisitor or Solas had actually  _admitted_ to being in a relationship with each other, it was obvious from the 'lingering looks', as Vivienne had helpfully pointed out. 

For Lavellan, it was the happiest she had been since Keeper Deshanna had started her training. She remembered the pride she had felt, knowing what a valued member of her clan she was as someone with both magical gifts and the future Keeper of Clan Lavellan. She had thought nothing could ever beat the joy on that day.

With Solas, it was a different kind of joy. It was an appreciation of her gifts and her keen mind, but she did not have to prove anything to him. She did not have to  _be_ anything to him other than herself, and he likewise found himself softening in her company. His towering walls built up over a long time began to lower and eventually crumble, but he always reminded himself not to get too close to her. It would break him, yes, but it would tear her to shreds, and having found a  _vhenan_ in this uncertain world, this world he had never intended to come to pass, he did not want to destroy something yet again.

Still, he found himself acting against his better judgement: he was simply unable to tear himself away from her. Who knew that simply sharing space together, quietly holding hands and enjoying each other's company, could send such a thrill down his spine? Who could tell that a brush of her lips against his, tasting always of mint and those sweet Orlesian frilly cakes she had come to adore, could make his heart burst? A simple gaze at her, so beautiful and unmistakeable, so different from the rest of her kind, made him melt on the spot.

He was helpless in her thrall, and he could not bring himself to stop. 

 _Ar lath ma, vhenan_. Those were the words he had whispered to her after that long, tender kiss on the balcony.  _I love you. You love me._ The poetic intricacies and ambiguity of the Elvhen tongue did his feelings justice, he reckoned: a simple "I love you" in Common could not hope to compare to a phrase bearing subtle variations in meaning that showed both intent and reciprocation, a blurring and merging of selves into one.

His heart was, quite literally, in her hands. The Anchor bore  _his_ magic, the essence, or heart, of himself; now his heart beat in her hand, and she was utterly oblivious to it. She was his heart, as well as having it; she loved him, and he loved her, and they were now one. 

 

* * *

 

 

He found her sitting in an alcove in his solar, reading a hefty-looking tome on Tevinter rituals while waiting for him. Hearing him approach, she jumped and ran to him excitedly.

" _Vhenan_!" she cried, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him downwards for a kiss. He returned the embrace, folding his arms around her waist and enjoying the feeling of kissing her and their hearts beating close together. After she drew up for air, he rested his chin on top of her head and she burrowed into his chest, clutching his tunic and humming contentedly. It was a moment he would not trade for anything in the whole world.

Eventually she pulled apart from him, though still clutching his hand tightly. He was amused by her obvious excitement.

"Do you want to show me something?"

"Yes!" He chuckled as she scampered to the door, unwittingly pulling him along behind her. He didn't mind: he found he couldn't even bring himself to care about the curious and amused looks of observers as she dragged him along Skyhold, heading for the forest beyond the gardens. Her joy was enough, and it was certainly infectious; he found himself grinning as he tried to imagine what she wanted to show him so badly.

"Although I was a First, I was still trained to be as vigilant and resourceful as any Dalish child," she explained as they went further. "I was taught the importance of being aware of one's surroundings. If you know the path to your destination like the back of your hand, then you get there safely and avoid any animals or.... humans eager to test weapons." She gave a harsh laugh, and he didn't press further. Although Clan Lavellan had been unique in its inquisitive attempts to form relationships with local humans, the cards had been stacked high against them since Arlathan. "Still, despite the cautions they instilled in us, the Keeper and Elders still fostered a curious spirit. If we did not investigate the local area, we might never find a danger lurking before we could escape, and equally we might not find an unexpected blessing." Her eyes grew wider with excitement, and he could tell her mood had shifted back to joy.

"Close your eyes, _vhenan_ , and let me guide you." She squeezed his hand reassuringly as he shut his eyes obediently, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

"Where is this temptress taking me, I wonder?"

She snorted and playfully swatted his arm. "You'll see soon enough. Too many details would spoil the surprise." Afterwards she refused to give so much as a hint, humming happily to herself and only speaking to make him avoid tripping. His curiosity was growing every second..... and, he had to admit, his impatience.

After he was about to half-teasingly ask if they would  _ever_ find this destination, she whooped in triumph. "Here it is! Oh, no, keep your eyes shut, I want to show you inside. It's so much more special there, trust me." She led him a few steps further, pulling his hand until she stopped so suddenly he nearly bumped into her.

She crept around him and wrapped her hands around his eyes. "When I remove my hands, you can open them," she whispered, leaning up to kiss the back of his neck. "Okay, three, two, one.... open!"

He found himself standing in the middle of a cave. No, that wouldn't do it any justice. It was a cave that his  _vhenan_ had lovingly furnished for him, bringing a bedroll ( _two_ , he noticed with a mischievous glint), a small chest of drawers, a desk with a table and no less than  _five_ bookshelves that ringed the cave walls. She had brought a red circular rug with gold tassels that covered two thirds of the floor ("I wasn't strong enough to carry a bigger one," she told him apologetically) and even painted a rainbow of handprints across the walls, along with their names encircled with a heart. She had even brought a ceiling lantern that she had filled with veilfire, ensuring it would never burn out, and carved two heat runes on the northern and southern walls that would heat him in the cold, and two ice runes on the east and west that would cool him when it got too hot.

"Dorian helped me with that bit," she explained. "He's the only other person that  _officially_ knows this place exists, although I'm sure the others have probably guessed long ago I was preparing something for you. He's much better with fire than I am. I get a little nervous of accidentally setting a flame burst on my allies," she chuckled. "He was also the one that helped me find a spell that would make it regulate the temperature, so you'd always be able to survive here. You could practically _move in_ , although I don't know about cooking supper."

He laughed. "This is.... this is so thoughtful, _vhenan_. I admit, I was never expecting something like this." He was about to ask why, but she beat him to it.

"I've seen how that solar is, and one thing it certainly lacks is _privacy_. For one thing, there's always someone bustling in and out, going through it or up the stairs. Then there's the fact that you have no ceiling, so Dorian or Leliana or anybody could essentially stare at you all day. Ah.... not that I've.... ever done that." She coughed. "Well, anyway, I thought you might prefer a little space that's just for you, where nobody could ever disturb you. You'll be able to come here and relax - you could read your books or cast a spell or... well, it's up to you, Solas." She smiled up at him, beaming with pride at how happy her gift had made him, and he found tears forming in his eyes unexpectedly. He blinked them away, scooped her up and kissed her long and deep.

"Thank you," he whispered against her lips as she gasped for air. "I... I will always treasure this, _vhenan_." His voice cracked in the middle of the sentence, but Lavellan didn't seem to care. She just grinned and sat down, beckoning him next to her. She placed her legs on top of his thighs and nestled her head into the crook of his neck. He placed an arm around her waist and gave it a loving squeeze.

They sat together like that for a long moment, sharing their mutual joy and enjoying each other's presence. 

" _Vyn alas'niremah i'em?_ " he blurted out.

She looked at him in surprise before laughing. "Was that something about  _dancing_?  _Sathan sal'dirtha, vhen'an_. I would have you ask me properly." 

"But of course." Rising to his feet, he grinned and offered her his hand, pulling her up gently before effortlessly wrapping his arms around her and dipping her backwards. She squealed, and he took the opportunity to lean forwards until his lips were a mere inch from hers. He could feel her shaky breathing and the way her heart was pulsing ten times faster than before.

"Would you care to dance with me, Lavellan?" he whispered in her ear.

She practically shivered. " _Yes._ " She felt breathless, and he chuckled as she blushed all over. He pressed his lips to hers in a quick, teasing kiss before moving the pair into a slow, gentle waltz.

He was conscious that, naturally, his  _vhen'an_ had never had much experience with dancing; at least not the formal, ritualised style that those of taste seemed to love. Her dances were the more wild, spirited dances of the Dalish, with steps that shouted their free and defiant spirit to any who dared to watch. Still, she was a quick learner - as a First she'd have to be, he added ruefully in his mind - and she had an equal grace in her movements that he had noticed from the way she performed spells: in many ways, her use of magic was like a dance, flowing and calming to watch until she unleashed hell on their enemies, shifting fire and ice from her fingertips to rain down above them.

There was no music for them to dance to, yet they settled into a comfortable rhythm, exchanging shy smiles as their steps made them draw closer and then apart. He felt as if centuries could pass in this moment, yet he would never tire of looking into those soulful, inquisitive eyes that sparkled back at him, crinkling as she grinned.

"You never told me you could dance, Solas," she laughed.

"You never asked,  _vhen'an_." He paused, and a wicked smile fell into place. "I never told you I  _couldn't_ , either."

She shook her head in mock disapproval. "So where did you suddenly acquire these skills? Were you taking lessons at Skyhold behind my back?"

He laughed hard at the thought. "Ah, my love, I would be a useless pupil. They wouldn't be able to take their eyes from my ears, anyway. No, I learnt these skills from... from  _memories_ of the ancient past. If one delves deep enough into the Fade, you can find the dreams and emotions of those who have long since passed, and from them I learnt many things. Dancing, of course," he added, while giving her a long look, "and other things as well, sometimes."

" _Other things_?" She stumbled, and her foot landed on top of his. She squealed in embarrassment and practically jumped backwards, covering her mouth as she blushed. Her eyes remained resolutely downcast. 

"I'm not sure what you were thinking of exactly," he said with a smirk tugging at his lips, "but I think perhaps the time for dancing is over. A couple doesn't tend to break apart so suddenly in a ballroom setting, though." He moved forwards and took her hand, bowing low until his lips pressed the back. He breathed gently as he kissed it, inhaling the scent of her perfume - subtle, yet pleasant - as he rose upwards, quietly satisfied.

"I hope that was pleasant,  _vhen'an_ ," he smiled, and she looked relieved.

"It was a pleasant surprise," she admitted, "but it means I have an excuse to spend more time with you." He quirked an eyebrow, and she coughed. "If we ever go to Orlais, I'll  _have_ to learn to dance properly, won't I? Otherwise my appearing at court would be little more than comedy to them."

He nodded. "I am flattered you think I can teach you," he laughed, "when I'm sure our Lady Ambassador would send ravens to all the most notable tutors in Thedas. But I can't deny I would certainly prefer it this way." 

"She doesn't have to if I explain I already have one," she told him with a truly wicked grin. "At any rate, I'd prefer you too." When she wrapped her arms around him and nestled into his chest, he felt almost as if he would burst.

"Thank you," he whispered quietly, suddenly moved, yet she didn't seem to notice. He folded an arm around her and stroked her hair, trying to resist the urge to cry.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Ar lath ma, vhenan_ \- I love you (my heart)  
>  _Vyn alas'niremah i'em_ \- Would you like to dance with me?  
>  _Sathan sal'dirtha_ \- Please repeat that/say that again


	4. Calodemon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Calodemon_ \- a good or beneficial spirit. Solas and Lavellan travel into the Fade together...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains brief references to Trespasser.

"You know, for all you've spoken to me about the Fade, we've never actually been there together," she told him, playfully swatting his arm.

He arched an eyebrow. "What about Haven?" 

Lavellan laughed. "That doesn't count,  _vhen'an_! At the time I didn't even know we  _were_ in the Fade until you told me."

"What about... dreams?"

"That doesn't count either." She crossed her arms over her stomach and attempted to frown at him. Solas bit back a laugh.  _She is strangely cute when she tries not to be_. "That doesn't require conscious effort. That's not  _planned_."

"Alright." He looked over at her, sliding an arm gently around her waist. "Tell me then, why are you so desperate to explore the domain of spirits?"

"I want to escape," she whispered, eyes downcast, and his blood ran cold. "I wasn't prepared for this at all. I was trained to be a Keeper, looking after a small clan!  _Nobody told me it was my job to suddenly save the world!_ " She shuddered. "And I wasn't prepared for... all the people. There's just  _so many_ of them. They never stop. There's always somebody who has a problem, and if I go to help them, that's about ten other people I'm neglecting. Ten other people who grow to resent me, then come to yell in my face and spread foul rumours about me." She was trying so hard not to cry. "I didn't ask for  _any_ of this. I didn't ask for the Conclave, I didn't ask for the war, and I  _never_ wanted this." She gestured to her arm, where the Anchor pulsed its green light, an ominous glow against her pale skin. 

He pulled her to his chest as she began to sob. "I just wanted a quiet life, Solas," she wailed. "I don't understand anything that's going on here, and I  _hate_ all of the politics. Why was I chosen? Surely some - some  _shem_ would have been better at this than I ever could!" She was sagging, nearly crumbling to the floor, and he had to firmly hold her to stop her from falling.

"I am sorry,  _vhen'an_ ," he told her gently, and he meant it. It hurt him deeply to see her so troubled and unhappy, and even more to know that he was the cause of it. He rubbed his toes against his heel, fidgeting as he tried to find a solution. "I did not know how strongly you felt." He bit his lip, suddenly overwhelmed.  _Coward_.

"It's alright, Solas," she sighed, rubbing his arm. "To be honest, I don't think  _anyone_ knew. They might have guessed, but I never told anyone. I was too ashamed, and then confused, and then - _gah!_ " She stomped her foot against the ground and turned to face him. "I don't want to think about all the things worrying me; there's a million and one, and the list grows every hour. Just for once, I want a little moment to myself." She blushed and turned away slightly before meeting his gaze head on. "Just for once, I want a little moment with _you._ "

Something was unfurling in his chest; an uncomfortable mixture of fear and hope. He wanted to stop himself from moving forwards and scooping her into his arms; he wanted to stop himself lifting her around his waist and clutching her tightly to him, murmuring his deepest emotions into the folds of her jacket; he wanted so desperately to fight the urge to kiss her and meet her grin with one of his own, entirely unforced.

What he wanted was no longer what he did. It had not been that way for a very long time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

"Firstly, we must set a ward for protection."

He instructed her the way a teacher might their student; in some ways, she  _was_ his student, being so much younger than him and so very unexperienced in comparison. He taught her the magic of the world and the history of their kind, spanning centuries long past; in turn, she taught him the joy in a world he no longer could recognise, and one he struggled to come to terms with. Knowing that she was a product of this world - and, he reluctantly admitted, one of the few good things to come out of it - did not make it any easier. She would never know the way her laughter cut into him like a knife; her simple smiles, her unending enthusiasm and curiosity, her little gestures of affection, her pure, unaffected _joy_ at being around and with him: they had all reduced him to bloody ribbons.

She closed her eyes for concentration, gesturing fluidly with her palms as she summoned a ward into the grass around them; it glowed a faint purple, flickering as she lowered her hands and turned to look at him. 

"Very good." His smile at her prowess, at least, was not marred: she really  _was_ a gifted mage, and the Dalish had smothered her potential in their own fear of magic itself. In turn, she had come to him with the burning enthusiasm of one who sought the treasures of the whole world, and he was happy to oblige with the little he knew. She had lapped it up eagerly, proving an ideal student by way of practice and dedication, and sheer force of will when she made an error. She was determined to learn all she could, and he admired it within her. Admired it the way he had come to admire the other aspects of her personality, and then slowly, unsteadily, grown to admire her looks as well, always fearing that he was treading in a direction he could not turn back from.

Lavellan laid out the sleeping rolls side by side and squatted down into hers, shuffling under the furs. She propped herself on an elbow, looking up at him expectantly. There was a teasing flick of the tongue in his direction.

"Come, Solas," she smiled. "Don't you want to dream of me?"

He sighed, yet felt his mouth twitching into a smile nonetheless as he folded his body around hers, resting his hand on her stomach.

She laughed, and it was music to his ears.

"I wonder how we can get to sleep," she teased him. "I feel so wide awake."

"Well, as with most things, there is a spell for that, _vhen'an_." He smirked. "One I am about to cast, if you would let me."

"Oh, of course."

"Thank you."

" _Ma nuvenin, sul'amelan_." He swatted at her stomach, causing her to lapse into a fit of giggles. His mouth twitched yet again as he fought the urge to laugh with her.

" _Vhen'an_ -"

"I'm sorry, Solas. No more, I promise."

He kissed the top of her head as a way of taking out the sting, then began to sing quietly. It was a little difficult, seeing as he was on his side and his _vhen'an_ was resting her body, with all its weight, against him. Still, he tried.

 _Elgara vallas, da'len_  
_Melava somniar_  
_Mala taren aravas_  
_Ara ma'desen melar_

 _Iras ma ghilas, da'len_  
_Ara ma'nedan ashir_  
_Dirthara lothlenan'as_  
_Bal emma mala dir_

 _Tel'enfenim, da'len_  
_Irassal ma ghilas_  
_Ma garas mir renan_  
_Ara ma'athlan vhenas_  
_Ara ma'athlan vhenas_

 

He felt her sleeping soundly at his side and smiled, marvelling how quickly she had actually fallen asleep. She let out little snuffling breaths, so he angled her head to prevent her snoring. 

He looked down on her, amazed.  _Perhaps the Dalish have a magic of their own_ , he wondered. 

Closing his eyes, he found himself quickly back in the Fade once more.  _Here, at least, I belong_.

 

* * *

 

 

He searched the Fade for her presence, keeping an ear pricked for any of her sounds: a gale of laughter, or something that similarly cheered the heart.  _She is nearby_ , the spirits told him.  _She waits for you, unknowing, yet expectant_.

When he found her, she was lying in a bower, her hair loosely draped around her shoulders. She wore a long, flowing dress, and she was surrounded by crystal grace. He remembered her telling him once that it was a flower she loved because it carried no purpose; it smelt sweet and tinkled in the breeze. Unlike the plants and herbs the Dalish scoured for, it was not medicinal, nor did it still the nerves or send someone to a peaceful sleep; neither was it to be avoided for its poisons and toxins. It was, to be put bluntly, an ornament and nothing more.

 It had been a foreign concept to her for a long time, the idea of something existing without an innate purpose. While the craftsmen among the Dalish could certainly create works of beauty, their ultimate purpose was functionality; the same reasoning came to their approach towards the natural world, and even the magical one. If it wasn't something that could benefit the clan, it wasn't something to be interested in.

She was weaving her hands through her hair, and Solas realised she was tying the flowers around the strands, forming a little crown and smiling as she hummed to herself. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed unaware that he was standing nearby. He felt for one moment ridiculously like a trespasser, then remembered he had come there with her.

Walking quietly over, he knelt beside her and stroked her forehead. Her eyes opened slowly, but she wasn't alarmed. Instead, her face lit up with a beaming grin while she pulled his head lower for her to kiss clumsily, laughing at his surprise.

"Hello, Solas," she whispered. She rose gently into a kneeling position next to him and rested her head against his shoulder. He felt his breath catch.

"So, what are we going to do here?" she smiled, and he laughed so hard that she looked confused.

"I thought this was _your_ idea, _vhen'an_ ," he chuckled.

"Yes," she pouted, "but _your_ area of expertise. You can... I don't know, recommend something?" She gestured with her hands, looking a little helpless, and he felt a little pang as he remembered, yet again.

He had a habit of forgetting. Perhaps he was even ashamed of it a little, though he would never bring himself to consider that. The Dalish taught that all spirits were demons, and the kindly ones he knew and loved were simply unknown to them; after all, if you were to wander into the Fade expecting hostility and threats, that would be all you _could_ ever experience.

It was not her fault that she was far less familiar with the world of spirits than he was, and certainly not her fault that she was maybe even a little threatened. It was to her credit that she had suggested coming here - he saw now the courage it must have taken, which she would never admit either - and he owed it to her to give her a pleasant experience. After all, this was escapism in its purest form,  and he knew nobody else who deserved it more.

"I apologise,  _vhen'an_ ," he said quietly, taking her hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze. "I admit, I was not thinking. Still, I can find someone who might help." He reached inside the Fade, looking for the boy.  _He will be here somewhere. I can feel it._

He needn't have looked far, because the boy appeared as quickly as Solas had thought of him. "Hello, Solas," he murmured.

Lavellan smiled, though Solas felt his hand being squeezed slightly more firmly. "Hello, Cole," she smiled. "We decided we wanted to explore the Fade a little. I'm sure _you_ would have ideas."

"He is unsure, yet always certain. She stands behind him, eagerly waiting for him to return. He drags the weight of his past behind him, and she embraces the future, yet they are stuck in the present." Sometimes the spirit almost talked another language; it was difficult to decode his cryptic sayings, because by the time she was on the verge of understanding, the boy would move on, eagerly spouting something else that she half understood. It left her feeling like a fool.  

Still, she was fond of him. He had proved himself a useful ally, both fighting in the battlefield, yet also healing all those around him (sometimes even their enemies, she noticed wryly); since he had become a spirit, he had ceased fighting altogether, embracing his role as a Spirit of Compassion, and forgot his mortal namesake altogether. Sometimes she worried if she had made the right choice: he seemed slightly more detached, more monotonous, yet at peace with himself for once. She could not begrudge him that, and yet - it was  _odd_. 

"Cole, I wonder if you could direct us to a place you are fond of," her  _vhen'an_ said gently, and she felt relieved. If Cole was a friend - albeit one she was slightly wary of now - then Solas was her lover, and always trustworthy. 

"It twists, always changing, never fixed, glowing like her hand. One form bleeds into another." The boy was moving forwards, turning round absently on occasion as if to remind himself they were really there. "They walked here once, and the world grew dark. Then  _you_ came, but you were full of light." He almost sounded... confused.

"Yes, Cole, I was here physically. I brought you and Solas with me, remember?" She tried to keep her voice light, remembering how he had been so shaken at the time. "But I meant no harm, and I did not hurt anybody. Surely that makes it a little better?"

Cole seemed to nod and sounded much more reassured. "She has gentle hands, hands of healing and warmth. She brings a smile to everyone around her, and she cares for her  _halla_ as if it were a friend."

"He  _is_ a friend, Cole. Just like you are a friend to me. Even Solas is a friend." She coughed, blushing. "Well, somewhat more, but -"

"He loves you," Cole whispered. It felt as if he was going to say something more, but he stopped. 

She laughed to recover the situation. "Well, I would certainly  _hope_ so, Cole. By now, at least. Otherwise it would be wrong to call him  _vhen'an_."

"He thinks it would be wrong if -"

 _Enough_. The words did not come from his lips, yet she recognised Solas' voice well enough. His face looked very tense, and she imagined he was having a mental conversation with the spirit. At least, that was what it looked like: how else to explain the expressions flicking between them?

It was exhausting to keep up with. She had only wanted a quiet, brief moment with him - a _date_ , dare she say it - and then he'd invited Cole, which was natural enough considering where they were, but now the boy was ruining everything. She had summoned the flowers because she wanted to play with him, a brief point of levity, and now everything was growing serious and painful once more. The very emotions she had tried to forget.

Solas wouldn't rid himself of his friend, she knew that, and it was difficult to rid herself of Cole too, if truth be told. He was so innocent like a child that it was difficult to be angry with him, yet she felt that way.

The Fade crackled, sensing her unhappiness, and a spark jolted to the ground a few feet ahead. Solas was still talking to the boy, utterly oblivious. He had even let go of her hand as he gestured ahead of them.

"I'm sorry, _vhen'an_ ," she whispered. He stopped moving at that and turned towards her. His face grew shocked, then sad as he took in her unhappy eyes.

 _Wake up_ , she thought, urging herself not to cry. 

 

* * *

 

 

They were back in their bedrolls, his arms clasped around her, yet she wriggled out and hurried to her feet. 

" _Vhen'an_?" His voice was thick with confusion and growing dread.

"You  _ruined it_!" She balled her fists against her sides and raised them, shaking against the sky. "It was supposed to be just the two of us! But you  _had_ to invite a spirit along! You had to invite  _him_!"

" _Ir abelas, vhen'an_ ," he murmured.

" _Tel'abelas!_ " She was practically shouting now as she dissolved the protective ward. She stopped to catch her breath and gave him a look that snapped his heart in two. "Perhaps some other time we can continue this. Just the two of us." 

She turned and ran from him, her eyes stinging from the weight of unfallen tears. He reached out towards her in a futile gesture, then crumpled to the ground, wondering what had went wrong.

He shook his head sadly. " _Fenedhis lasa!_ " He thumped the ground and swore. Her figure was a blur to him now, and it was all his fault. She had planned this for him, and it dawned on him now that his own pride had ruined it.  

" _Ir abelas, vhen'an_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Ma nuvenin, sul'amelan_ \- As you wish, teacher  
>  _Ir abelas, vhen'an_ \- I'm sorry, my love  
>  _Tel'abelas_ \- You're not sorry  
>  _Fenedhis lasa_ \- a common curse; _semi-canon_ go suck a (wolf's) dick


	5. Daedal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Daedal_ \- formed with art, or displaying inventive skill; something complex or intricate. Solas tries to find a way to show Lavellan how much she means to him.

 

 

The frescoes had become something of a curiosity to the people of Skyhold. Of course, they were too polite to disturb him at his work (although he could often hear Sera's snorts as he painted, cackling from a distance), yet he could gather from their whispers that they had seen and admired it once he had finished.

It puzzled him. He had not painted the frescoes in the rotunda for the cause of his own fame or popularity, but simply as a means of documenting the Inquisitor's actions. Writing a diary or journal was something better suited to the Ambassador, who wrote countless letters about the Inquisition as it was. No, he had carried on in this way because it made sense to him. 

Subconsciously, it was an act of protection as well: protection of their shared heritage at least, for few elves alive were even aware of the ancient frescoes their ancestors had delighted in, and even fewer could actually create them. He had discussed this with an archivist - Banon, was it? - who had agreed with him on the beauty of the art, and was equally sad that there were few alive to practice it. It had been a touching moment of connection, yet one he was hesitant to replicate; he did not seek the attention his art received, and truthfully it made him more than a little uncomfortable.

He wondered what  _she_ would think if he made a fresco of her, then blushed. If the frescoes already existing were so popular, then he would have no rest if he created  _that_. People would praise its romantic nature, or deride it as a selfish gesture of possessiveness, perhaps; and what if she didn't like it? What if the gesture embarrassed her? Like him, his  _vhen'an_ was not one made for the limelight, and the intense scrutiny such a piece would no doubt suffer from would only mortify her.

Perhaps, then, a bouquet of flowers? Enchanted to last forever, or imbued with glowing veilfire? Maybe an Orlesian trinket: he could ask for Josephine or Leliana's help in procuring a small yet elegant brooch, or necklace, or bracelet, yet the women's shared looks and their inevitable cooing and cackling over the matter would make him shrivel up to dust. It would be incredibly humiliating to sit as they teased him, not realising how uncomfortable it made him, yet he would be powerless in the face of his own unwavering politeness to stop them. He shook his head, casting it from his mind.

What, then? What could he give her that would show the depth of his feelings? Something simple, or extravagant?

He caught himself thinking it and wondered why he was suddenly so desperate to give her something, and something that _meant_ something at that. Why was it suddenly so important now?

_Oh._

_OH._

 

* * *

 

 

This was  _not_ good. This was very, very,  _very_ bad. He wanted to scream. He had known for a long time now that he was falling in love with her, and who could not? She was beautiful, even if she strongly denied it; she was shy, delicate and graceful; she had a wicked sense of humour and a grin that would make a Revered Mother blush; she was a joy to be around and a pain to be parted from. But the knowledge suddenly at his feet that he was now  _in love_ with her, an emotion that he could no longer deny or hide from, was utterly terrifying.

He did not want to hurt her, but he  _would_ ; it would hurt him, too. He had been denying his emotions for a very long time now, and to be suddenly confronted with them made him extremely uncomfortable.

 _She deserves someone better_ , he thought to himself bitterly.  _Someone of the People; a kind, gentle soul who won't betray her, and who can bring her all the joy and comfort that I never could._

He was stewing in his own thoughts when she came running to see him and pressed a clumsy kiss to his cheek, surprising him.

" _Vhen'an_?" 

"Hello, Solas," she whispered. "I've just come from a meeting, and there's another one really,  _really_ soon, so I ran all the way here. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You know, not too lonely or anything." She was gasping for breath, and her cheeks were flushed red with exertion, but she had a huge grin on her face. " _Ar lath, ma vhen'an_ ," she smiled, and it made his heart sing.

" _Sule tael tasalal, vhen'an_ ," he smiled back. "I would not want to keep you from your work."

"That's right. Josie would kill me!" She gasped, looking flustered. "I promise, I'll be back as soon as I can." She scampered to the doorway and paused, frowning in concentration. "Ah, I nearly forgot!" Her voice softened to an affectionate tone, and her eyes sparkled. " _Ir abelas._ _Sule, vhen'an._ "

She ran off back to her work, and his mind was set. He shook his head with a rueful smile as he searched for parchment.

 

* * *

 

Predictably, they laughed at him, teasing him as he knew they would. He got through the meeting with gritted teeth.

"It seems our Fade expert has a heart, after all," Leliana chuckled.

"Oh hush," Josephine chided him. "I think it's a very sweet idea, Solas. Mistress Lavellan is sure to love it." She gave him a friendly smile that made him relax somewhat, although he was still deeply wary of falling into the women's trap.

"May I ask, Solas, what prompted this? Is it perhaps our Inquisitor's birthday?" the spymaster asked him, raising an eyebrow.

At that he shook his head. "No, I fear I would be quite early on that count. It is simply a gift to... to show her how much she means to me."

Their delighted giggling made his heart sink.  _This was a mistake. Oh vhen'an, I'm sorry._

"How  _romantic_! Like something out of an Orlesian fairytale!" Josephine grinned, clapping her hands excitedly.

Leliana,  _that harpy_ , was having her cake and eating it. She had a grin that could eat... wait, where did that thought come from? He'd been forced to listen to Sera for too long, he thought to himself with regret. "So, when would our dashing chevalier want these delivered, then? Perhaps in time for a romantic evening together in that rotunda of yours. Or even _her_ quarters. I think you've been holding out on that for a while, Solas." She gave him a truly demonic wink.

 _I want a rift to appear and swallow you into the Void_. "As soon as can be arranged at your earliest convenience, Ambassador." He decided to turn the rest of the conversation towards Josephine. At least the woman was no sadist, and seemed the most inclined towards rationality out of the pair.

Unfortunately, she still had a sentimental streak. "I could arrange them to be gift-wrapped in Orlais before the merchant even posts them here," she mused. "Perhaps a lovely green silk ribbon, to symbolise the Dalish. Oh, and we could arrange a forest motif on the paper, hand-painted, of course. I wonder, would gold leaf seem a little too... extravagant?"

"Extravagant is not a word in the Orlesian vocabulary, Lady Montilyet," he said, jaw as taut as a bowstring. He was regretting this decision more than anything in his whole life. He was  _certain_ the spymaster was mocking him, but the ambassador? Surely not?

"Oh, Solas," Leliana tutted. "You  _have_ to put in the utmost effort if you want to impress a woman. You need to spoil her as if she's a princess. After all, is our Lavellan not your girlfriend?" She giggled. "Actually, I don't know  _what_ she is to you." His face reddened drastically.

"I don't think you've ever specified, no," Josephine added. Her smile seemed a tad uncomfortable, as if it was beginning to dawn on her that she was intruding on private territory. "Perhaps there is an Elvhen term I'm not familiar with, after all."

"For  _girlfriend_?" Leliana laughed. "I would have thought the People would have a more romantic streak. Something like 'holder of my heart.'  _Girlfriend_ is very... well...."

He had had enough by now. "She is  _ma vhen'an_ , and it is no concern of yours," he snapped. "Now, will you order these objects and have them delivered to me, or not?" It took the utmost self-control to not shout at them, or slap a particular somebody.

Their faces fell, and the mood immediately became serious.

"Of course, Solas," Leliana replied, and he was pleased to see she looked guilty now.

"We meant no harm,  _ser_ , just teasing," Josephine added bashfully.

"Thank you. I will pay you now -" he poured the coins out from a pouch onto the table, " - and we will speak no more of this. Good day to you both." He spun on his heel and walked out of the room as fast as he could, taking care to not slam the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

She found a note in her quarters a few weeks later. It had been tucked discreetly to the side of her desk, away from her work papers, which raised an eyebrow. Unfolding it, she began to read, and a smile dawned:

_"Vhen'an,_

_I have been trying to find a way to show you how much you mean to me. None of the options I could think of seemed worthy, so I had to work with assistance."_

The final word had been scratchily underlined, as if he had been in a bad mood.

" _Still, I managed to find two gifts that I thought would please you all the same. You will find enclosed a small bouquet of crystal grace_." She grasped it gently by the stem. " _I have enchanted it myself so that it will not age or perish. You can wear it in your hair or pinned on your jacket, or even place it in a vase - though I remind you it does not require water or sunlight._

 _I also sent to Orlais for a golden locket, which you will find on the right side of your desk._ "

It had been similarly tucked away, so she had been unaware of it until now. Looking over it, she noticed how elegant it was; the gold was polished until it shone, and it was inlaid with an emerald in the middle. " _Given how much the Dalish deal with nature, I thought something green would be appropriate._ "

She could almost hear him chuckling to himself, proud of his efforts.

" _Inside it, I went to the liberty of enclosing a personal article. I hope this is acceptable to you_."

She opened it, curious, and found herself blushing. He was staring back at her in miniature form and smiling fondly, although looking slightly embarrassed: his cheeks were redder than usual. She could imagine him sitting for it, growing more uncomfortable by the second.

" _A sketch was made of me here, but this was painted in Orlais when the locket was made, so they have perhaps painted me in a stylised way. I regret to inform you I do not look as handsome in person._ "

 _Oh Solas,_ she thought to herself, amused.

" _Wherever our futures take us, I will always be with you, wherever you go when I am not by your side. I hope it will not be for some time._ " 

She had to pause. It was such a strangely sad thing to write in an otherwise happy letter. 

" _Still, there is one last surprise. For all these gaudy things may make you smile, they are not truly worthy of this purpose. I thought it would be nice if we could create something together, just for us. Please meet me in the rotunda whenever you are ready._

 _Dar'atisha, ma vhen'an_." 

She fastened the locket around her neck and ran out the door.

 

* * *

 

 

She hesitated at knocking on his door, beginning to regret her decision now. It was the evening when she'd found the note, after all; suppose he was about to sleep? It was incredibly selfish of her, she reminded herself.

She couldn't resist.  _Creators forgive me_ , she prayed as she rapped on the door.

There was no response for a moment.  _Oh god, maybe he's already asleep_. She debated with herself and was on the verge of running in shame when - 

" _Vhen'an_?" His voice sounded surprised, although not tired. That was a relief.

" _Solas_!" She ran into his arms and hugged him so tightly that he chuckled before gently extracting himself to breathe. He beckoned her inside and shut the door quietly.

"I trust you read my letter, then."

"Solas, I'm  _so_ -"

" _Vhen'an_ , there will be plenty of time later to say how wonderful I am," he teased. "But I fear we will lose our momentum otherwise. Do you wish to go to the rotunda with me?"

She considered it. There wasn't much thought required, and she wasn't fully coherent when faced with those blue eyes. "Yes," she breathed, earning herself another warm laugh as her _vhen'an_ led the way over.

 

* * *

 

 

Laid out by a blank patch of the wall were tins of paint, colours carefully labelled in what looked like Solas's own hand. There were two brushes carefully placed to the side of the last tin.

"Only two?" she noticed, and he smiled.

"We can use magic, can we not, to generate a flame in one hand, like so," he demonstrated, "and use its heat to evaporate the paint. Of course, such a process may be somewhat long, but -"

"It's more fun than rinsing in dirty water?" She finished for him, earning herself an amused look.

"Quite. Now we just need to establish what I will paint." At her confused and slightly hurt look, he hastened to explain: "Painting a fresco is a difficult procedure. It involves setting the plaster and painting directly onto the surface before it has fully dried. I have practiced the skill for many years and, though you are certainly very proficient at magic, I think it may be best if I do the painting alone." He smiled to soften the blow. "Still, I said I will do the  _painting_. I still need you to stand by the plaster and prevent it drying too quickly, but I also need you to tell me what I will paint for  _you_."

 _Now I understand._ He would use his talent to create a beautiful work of art for her, and for her alone. The thought touched her, and she couldn't resist the urge to hug him again. He ruffled her hair and placed a kiss to her brow before gesturing to the tins.

"What will you have me create,  _vhen'an_?"

She thought for a moment. This was going to be immortalised forever; she had to find the right _moment_ , the right  _feeling_... the right  _everything_. Her mind swam as her thoughts raced, and all the times they'd spent together flickered about her like little wisps. For a moment, just a moment, she was utterly overwhelmed.

Then she gave him a prize-winning grin. "Haven," she whispered, "when you kissed me." She moved closer to him, and each word she uttered brushed against his lips like a lover. "You wrapped your arms around me." She gently pulled his arms into place, enfolding them around herself. She felt so safe like this, so happy she could melt. She would never leave his embrace if it could be possible. "And then you kissed me." She offered a gentle peck, seeing if he would take the bait.

With a rueful shake of the head and an amused glint in his eyes, he did. He kissed her long and deep, yet his touch was always gentle. Still, it was always passionate when he did, because for much of the time he held himself back: in public, he would only hold her hand or maybe squeeze it for comfort - his or hers, she could not say - or lightly graze her cheek with a quick, simple kiss, nothing more than a fluttering press of lips. He was reluctant to show physical signs of affection in public, and she took it for simple embarrassment on his part, preferring to keep such things private. It made it much more romantic that he did.

Besides, his words more than made up for it. For all the kisses he may not have given her in public, he strung her murmured sentences in Elvhen, each word weighted with significance as it flowed with a melodic rhythm. He managed to make the simplest compliment sound like a line in a poem, and it made her heart melt each time. She only wished she had his confidence in the language: although as a First she had a greater knowledge of it than the ordinary clansman, seeing as she was essentially a Keeper-in-training, she would never be able to compliment him so strongly without thinking. 

He must have noticed her discomfort because he turned away from the paint tins and looked anxious. “ _Vhen’an_?”

“I’m fine, Solas. Just a brief thought, that’s all. Nothing troubling.” He didn’t look convinced, but she was reluctant to talk about it. It would touch her pride to admit a failing in that regard; the Dalish prided themselves on the little fragments of the past they could preserve, and to say that she struggled with it would only confirm all the things he had ever told her about her people before.

She understood why he’d said and believed it, but it still hurt. It was not a topic she was eager to engage with right now.

He didn’t look convinced, but seeing her expression he dropped the topic, shaking his head briefly. He smiled at her, trying to smooth over the atmosphere.

“Whenever you’re ready, _vhen’an_ , I just need you to cast a ward over the wall there.” He pointed, gesturing with his hands the size it would be. “I need you to monitor the temperature: it has to be cool enough to paint on without the colours melting, but warm enough that the plaster doesn’t dry too quickly. Does that sound alright?”

She nodded, rolling her sleeves out of the way as she stretched her hands out and focused her mind. She could feel the energy coiling at her fingertips, eagerly waiting to be released.

He assessed the wall once more before liberally applying plaster to the brush and nodding to her.

The wall began to glow with a pale green light, flickering slightly like a candle in the breeze. He looked like he was underwater as he moved to the wall and slathered the plaster over it, carefully staying within the ward’s boundaries. The light danced over his face, and she found it hard to concentrate until he was satisfied and moved to the tins with a fresh brush to apply the paint.

“Focus, my love,” he whispered half-chidingly with a smile, applying the first stroke.

After that she was mesmerised by him painting. He moved effortlessly, and the brush almost appeared to be moving on its own, so easy did he make it seem to her. Still, she could tell by the way he clenched his jaw that he was focusing intently, which only made her want to focus even harder for his sake.

It was beautiful, truly. Every stroke of paint was carefully applied, and none were messy or out of place. The colours appeared so vivid to her, stark against the pale white walls of the rotunda, and it was almost as if they, too, were glowing in sympathy.

All the while her _vhen’an_ frowned and painted, oblivious to her fascination. He didn’t seem to notice the way the magic crackled at her fingertips either when she struggled to maintain her focus, but then he was lost to her, absorbed in a world of his own making. Occasionally he would summon a ball of fire in his free hand and absently let it flicker close to the brush, evaporating the paint until he was satisfied. She was always scared he would singe the hairs, yet he never did. He never ever  _looked_ at it, so confident was he that her unspoken fears wouldn't come to reality. She admitted to herself that  _he_ at least knew what he was doing, even if the process was alien to her.

She saw it slowly come to fruition through the haze of her ward: he held her close to him, arms tightly wrapped around her tiny frame as he kissed her. Her hair fluttered in an imaginary breeze, and he had even added little wisps about them for the added glow; the green light made their faces light up, emphasising the _vallaslin_ against her skin and his dark eyebrows. Satisfied with the pair of them, he made Haven come to life around them, painting in the buildings and scenery, yet the focus was unmistakeably on the two elves. Everything else was much more subdued, quiet in the face of their affection. It was enough to make her smile and stifle her blush behind the collar of her shirt.

He made sure all the paint was smoothly applied before nodding to her. She let her hands fall, and the ward flickered and died. With one motion, he made the paint and plaster dry completely, then placed a gentle finger to her painted cheek in wonder.

“It’s so beautiful,” she breathed. It was no exaggeration: she couldn’t think of a sight she’d rather be looking at, nor one that meant so much to her either.

He chuckled, looking bashful yet quietly proud of himself. “They will come flocking to see this once they become aware of its creation, you know,” he whispered, looking torn. “I hope this will not bother you, _vhen’an_. If you like, I know a –”

“Hush.” She cupped his cheek in one hand and shook her head teasingly. “I love it, Solas. You don’t need to hide it from them. They will be as proud of it as I am, I know it.”

He made a choked sound and looked back at her. _His eyes._ They were filled with disbelief, yet his face was slowly moving into a happy expression. “ _Ma vhen’an_ ,” he said wonderingly as she stroked his other cheek gently.

“ _Vhen’an_ ,” she agreed, and pulled him into a gentle kiss. It was nothing wildly passionate, but it was filled with all the affirmation he was desperately seeking. He only wished he could deserve it.

As they pulled apart to breathe, she grinned at him. Her own joy was so infectious that he found his mouth forming a crooked, lop-sided smile in return. “ _Ar lath ma, Solas_ ,” she told him, her grin never faltering.

“ _Ar lath, ma vhenan_ ,” he told her in return, smiling to himself as she rested her head against his shoulder, willing himself not to yawn.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sule tael tasalal_ \- until we meet again  
>  _Sule_ \- farewell  
>  _Dar'atisha, ma vhen'an_ \- go in peace, my love  
>  _Ar lath ma, vhen'an_ \- I love you


End file.
